I went back to college for art when I was 26. It seemed I was the only one who wasn't smoking pot. But, it just wasn't something that had ever appealed to me. Truth is ... when I was in my early teens, I realized (rightly or wrongly), that I was likely one of those who would easily become addicted. Consequently, I had no interest in taking drugs, drinking, or even smoking.
As for smoking, I grew up in a small house that was about 850 square feet, which was heated by an oil furnace in the middle of the house. My three brothers shared the main bedroom, I had the second, and my parent's bedroom had at one time been a back porch, which had been enclosed to make a utility room. Being the width of my bedroom and the bathroom, it was as big as the main bedroom, and still had the window between it and the bathroom ... which was always rather strange. Both parents were heavy smokers, until my mom quit smoking. Though, I can't remember exactly when that was ... whether I was still in grade school or was in junior high. But just one heavy smoker is enough to make a small house without central heating unbearable.
It was absolutely disgusting. Being a reader, and one who rather likes privacy and quiet ... which isn't exactly easy to find when you have three younger, active, brothers, I'd often read in my bedroom. In the summer, I could shut my door and have some peace and quiet. But in the winter? If I shut the door, I froze. If I left it open, I could be warm, but I was breathing foul air. So there was no freaking way I was ever going to smoke.
My parents didn't drink, except when they played cards with friends or we got together with family for holidays. Even then, it was only my dad and uncles who drank beer, and no one drank all that much on card nights. A bottle of booze would last months ... if not years. I wouldn't be at all surprised that the bottle of peppermint schnapps was still in the cupboard when my parents finally bought a house and moved when my youngest brother was in high school. (He was six years younger than the next oldest brother).
So ... being booze wasn't really a part of my childhood, and I never saw a woman drink beer until I had been an adult for ages, I just never had an interest in drinking. Of course, I did the obligatory going out for drinks on my 21st birthday. One of my older female friends from church took me out
She also loaned me her car when I had to take my test for my driver's license ... for that matter, I ended up practicing driving with her car. Our Chevy Nova was a cranky shift stick, and I almost gave up ever learning to drive after being stuck in a busy intersection with my dad. I killed the engine every single freaking time I tried to take my turn through the intersection. Even though I'd gone through Driver's Ed, they didn't exactly prepare us for driving a massively cantankerous car with a flaky clutch. I angered SO many drivers that day, and not a single one of them was hesitant about laying on their horn to express their anger. My dad and I finally switched places, and he drove us home. He also wasn't the most patient man either. So not only did I have other drivers yelling at me, so was he!
Oh jeez. I didn't intend on such a long trip through past memories!
So, getting back to my original thought. While I was in college, I hung out with a lot of people who were always high ... and thought they were creating brilliant works of art. Which ... were rather mediocre. I've always far preferred to keep my head on straight ... and to have at least one toe somewhat touching reality. Even if I far prefer living in a fantasy world
Or a cave with an ocean view, running water, heat, and a functional and well equipped bathroom.